


Sherlollipops - Best Laid Plans

by MizJoely



Series: 221 Sherlollipops [189]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Sherlolly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-17
Updated: 2016-06-17
Packaged: 2018-07-15 16:46:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7230571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MizJoely/pseuds/MizJoely
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>doctor-molly-hooper-holmes said: Whenever I think of a Sherlolly wedding, I’m torn between 2 scenarios:</p>
<p>1. Sherlock turns into a complete bridezilla (groomzilla? idk) and plans everything down to the last detail. Molly becomes so frustrated with him that he spends an entire week sleeping on the sofa until he can get back into her good graces.</p>
<p>2. Sherlock barges into the lab, declares “Molly, we’re getting married!” and drags her off to get married then and there.</p>
<p>Therefore this fic was born.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sherlollipops - Best Laid Plans

“He’s driving me absolutely out of my mind,” Molly declared. She and Mary Watson were sitting at a table in the St. Bart’s canteen, sharing cups of truly bad tea and commiserating over just what a maniac Sherlock was when it came to weddings.

“You missed all the fun with our wedding,” Mary sighed. “Has he done the napkins yet? Or the scale model of the venue?”

Molly nodded. “I told him enough is enough - and sent him into exile on the sofa until he got his head on straight again!” She giggled a bit. “When I got up this morning he was sprawled out with Toby on his stomach...and yes, a pile of ‘Sydney Opera House’ napkins on the coffee table.” Her mirth vanished, a melancholy expression taking its place. “I just wish...we don’t need all this, you know? I tried to tell him that I was fine with just a small ceremony, but I swear, once he gets an idea in his head, it’s impossible to knock it back out again!”

Mary gave her a sympathetic smile and squeezed her hand. Catching a bit of movement from the man sitting at the table behind Molly - who had a newspaper up to cover his face, of all things - she chuckled silently to herself. “You never know,” she counseled. “Maybe he’ll surprise you.”

The newspaper rattled, the long, elegant fingers clenching it tightly, and she chuckled to herself as she and Molly finished their tea. Oh yes, she had a feeling the consulting groomzilla had finally got the message.

A few hours later, after Mary had fetched little Briony from the creche and Molly was back in the path lab finishing up her tasks for the day, the door opened to reveal the dramatic figure of her husband-to-be. Although she was always happy to see him, Molly couldn’t help but brace herself for the latest wedding-related crisis she was required to give an opinion on.

He gave her a critical look. “I’ve brought your dress, it’s in the changing room. And your white heels, although I’ve taken the liberty of removing those ghastly fake flowers from the toes. Don’t worry, I didn’t throw them out, I’ve glued them to this.” 

He pulled his hand from behind his back and showed her the white, satin-covered headband he’d been holding. It did indeed appear to have the cheerful white fabric hydrangeas that had formerly graced her only pair of white heels, clustered together on one side. “Sherlock, what is going on?” she asked in bewilderment.

“Our wedding, Molly,” he replied impatiently, as if it should be obvious. “Your mother and my parents are waiting at the registrar’s office with Mary and John. Mycroft has graciously agreed to preside, and Mrs. Hudson and your friend Meena are being escorted by Lestrade and Stamford. The rest of your friends and coworkers will meet us afterwards, at Angelo’s, we’ve got it for the night.”

Molly gaped at him as he grasped her elbow, gently urging her into movement. “I...wait...what? Sherlock, what the hell - ?”

He lost the abstracted look he’d been wearing that told her his attention was fully here in the now, with her, gently placing the headband atop her head and running his fingers over her cheeks. “Molly Hooper, you agreed to marry me, in spite of your better judgement. You’ve put up with my insufferable obsessing over every single unnecessary detail for far too long, and I’ve finally come to the conclusion that I should have reached weeks ago: this wedding needs to be about us, and not about a public spectacle. So. I’ve found that vintage white tea dress you were admiring online, had it altered to your measurements, and it’s waiting down in the locker room. Once you’ve showered and changed, we can meet the others and do this wedding properly - you and me exchanging rings and vows in the presence of those we love. If you like.” 

She didn’t miss the notes of anxiety in his careful presentation, and raised herself on tiptoes in order to press a reassuring kiss to his lips. “It sounds perfect,” she assured him, a smile blossoming on her lips as the lines between his eyes eased.

Two hours later they were wed, and Molly was positive there was no one on Earth who could be happier than she was - until she looked up and saw the awestruck expression on Sherlock’s face. “We did it,” she said, squeezing his hand reassuringly as their friends offered their congratulations.

“We did,” he agreed, smiling tenderly down at her. “Thank you, Molly Hooper, for making me the happiest man on Earth.”

The kiss he gave her then was full of promise - and a passion that left her every nerve end tingling with anticipation.

“Let’s get this reception nonsense over with,” she murmured against his ear when the kiss ended. “I can’t wait to start our sex holiday!”

Judging by the alacrity with which he kissed her this time, neither could he.


End file.
